


Talent Show

by jewboykahl



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Fluff and Humor, High School, M/M, One Shot, talent show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26086444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewboykahl/pseuds/jewboykahl
Summary: Craig reluctantly agrees to help his classmates put on a talent show, hating every second of it until Tweek's act brings him the best surprise he's ever received.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86





	Talent Show

Our long-standing lunch congregation is currently discussing the annual talent show. Since it's our senior year, Kyle thinks it'd be a swell idea for us all to pitch in—either behind the scenes or with an act—to make the show super awesome as our last shebang. I hate Cartman from the bottom of my heart, but I'm grateful for his way of thinking occasionally. "Kyle, you've had a lot of really gay ideas over the years, but that is by far the most flaming of all." 

I chuckle in agreement along with Kenny and Clyde. Kyle's eyebrows came together to form his signature angry expression at the bully. "Shut up, Cartman! You're just saying that because you have no talent." 

"Excuse me, asshole, but I happen to have a beautiful singing voice. Michael Jackson even said so." Cartman retorts, sure of himself. 

Kyle sighs, picking his battles. "Sure, whatever. So, who's in?" 

"I'll do it." Stan volunteers, and it's no shock that he would take the ginger's side. To my surprise, however, the entire table agrees to participate, not including myself, Cartman, and Tweek. 

"C'mon, Tweek! It's senior year, man!" Kyle tries to bargain. 

Tweek says, "No way, man! Talent shows are way too much pressure!" 

"You should do it! Everyone knows you're a great singer." Token reasons, causing embarrassment to color his cheeks.

" _Gah_ , no I'm not! Unless you guys want me to have a panic attack in front of everyone I'll pass." He told them, trembling slightly as he sipped his frozen coffee drink. 

"Well, I mean, we're gonna have to get ponchos for the entire first row when Stan projectile vomits on them, so I'm sure we could work something out for you." Kyle teases, side-eyeing the black-haired quarterback. 

"Asshole," Stan rolls his eyes and chuckles with us despite himself. "I'm just gonna help with setting things up." 

"Right, we'll have a meeting about it at my house soon?" Kyle glances around the table to search for disapproval and finds none until I flip him off. 

He sighs, addressing Tweek, "Can you please do that thing you do where you make him less of an asshole?" 

Tweek's deep green eyes go wide and he pouts his lip. I consider his adorable expression before growling in protest, "No. Talent shows are just ways for the rest of the school to laugh at us and make us their Snapchat stories. Nobody thinks it's cool, even if whatever you're doing is." 

"It doesn't matter, it's just for fun! And we're gonna get as many people involved as possible. C'mon, it could be a fun project!" Kyle bargined. 

"The words 'fun' and 'project' don't belong in the same sentence, Ky," Kenny speaks up and hands out his charming smile. "But you know I'm in." 

Kyle grins and points to the dirty blond, "See? Kenny's a team player. C'mon, Craig, please?" 

"Please, Craig?" Clyde joins in, protruding his bottom lip and sniffling. 

Soon all the guys are fake crying or whining for me to conform, aside from Tweek who shakes and mumbles something about pressure. I give the leader of this campaign a hard glare. "The last time you jerks dragged me into something we ended up in stranded in Peru. No way." 

Cartman groans, "That was one time! Jesus, gaywad, live and let die." 

"There is no possible way you could end up in South America this time. I promise." Kyle assures me with finality. 

I glance from Kyle to Tweek, and make my decision. "I'll help Stan if you get Tweek to sing." 

"What?!" the vibrating blond boy exclaims in horror. 

I can't help but laugh a little when Kyle leans on his elbow and waggles his eyebrows. "Come on, Tweek. You know you wanna." 

"Yeah, man, you sing all the time!" Clyde adds.

This only makes Tweek blush harder and tug at the ends of his hair. "Yeah, like, in the shower where no one can hear me!" Tweek defends, glancing from side to side nervously. "Oh, god, man, I can't get up there with all those people. And we shouldn't all be crowding in one room! That would make a school shooting so much easier! _Gah!_ " 

"It’s okay, Tweek." I finally say in attempts to soothe his near anxiety attack. 

"One song, Tweek. You get up there, sing with your beautiful little voice, and then you get off. No sweat. And, Stan will play guitar for you!" Kyle volunteers his boyfriend, who had lost interest until he heard his name. 

He peers up at Tweek, then Kyle. "He will?"

"Yes, he will." Kyle confirms with finality. Stan just sighs in agreement. "You won't even be alone, Tweek!" 

Stan pushes Token away by his face when he makes a whiplash sound effect. I chuckle before returning my attention to Tweek and lifting an eyebrow. "What do you say?" 

Tweek gnaws his bottom lip and takes one more look at everyone's expectant stares before he stops on mine. He gazes right into my eyes, making my stomach do flip-flops. I try not to get lost in the unique, deep green color like I always do. His shaky voice lowers, "W-Will you be there?" 

I give him one of my rare, genuine smiles, “I’m always here for you." 

This seems to feed Tweek's self-confidence slightly, and he grins, lingering his gaze on my face for a second. He kind of freaks me out when he does that; I don't know if it's because I'm doing something wrong, he likes me as more than a friend, or he just really appreciates the fact that I'm the only one who tries to help him remain calm on a regular basis. I'm hoping it's a mixture of the last two, but I'm not sure. Other than fear, Tweek's emotions are damn near impossible to read. He says he tells me everything, so I don't have to guess, but if he possessed romantic feelings for me I'm positive he would keep them a secret. I know I do. 

He looks back at Kyle and sighs, "Alright, I'll do it." 

"Yes!" Kyle cheers, high-fiving Stan then lacing their fingers together. I would complain about their gross PDA but it's a lot better than when Stan tried to be straight and went out with Wendy. That was just awkward. 

The rest of the period is spent deciding what everyone is going to do. Jimmy claims he'll put together his funniest act yet, Cartman assures he'll blow away all the competition but can't ruin the surprise (which means he has no ideas), Kenny is trying to coax Butters into tap-dancing, and Kyle says he'll run the show, and possibly exploit his little brother's magician phase. Stan and I agree that we will be in charge of lighting, backstage management, and equipment, but when Kyle turns his back on us Stan assures me that if we do a bad enough job Kyle will take over and we’ll be off the hook.

"I'll talk to PC Principal today, guys! This is gonna be sick." Kyle tells us all excitedly as we start to pile out of the cafeteria.

Everyone agrees, or mutters something about it being gay, and Tweek and I veer off to our next class. Twitching and shifting nervously, he peers at me, "Craig, do you really thing I'm a good singer?" 

“Yeah, you're really good, Tweek. You’re really good at piano, too, though, if you’d rather just play a song." 

Tweek shrugs, “I don’t know, isn’t that kind of boring?”

“Seriously, who cares? The only reason I even gave in is I know how persistent Kyle is,” I assure him, adding, “But, nothing you do could ever be boring.”

His cheeks flush adorably at my compliment, "Thank you, I just... I dunno—" 

"Have no self-confidence?" I finish for him. 

"Exactly," He groans, feeding his fingers through his tangled blond locks. I tug his hand away to cease his hair-tugging. 

I keep holding his hand and speak in a serious tone, "You should. You're seriously amazing. You're going to be the best one up there." 

Tweek bites down on his bottom lip and averts his gaze to the linoleum floor. Why is he so adorable? "Thanks, Craig. It means a lot." 

"Sure, dude." I reply before we head into our English class. Through the whole period I just picture Tweek up their onstage, singing and smiling. He really does love to sing, and does it all the time. Music helps him find his center. The only other thing that effectively chills him out is me. He's told me he would love to be a singer and dreams about concerts with hundreds of fans singing his lyrics back. But, he is sure he never can thanks to his crippling anxiety. I really hope he'll go through with it. I really like seeing him happy.

_

“Dude, your mom had me bring you up some coffee, and half of it’s on my jacket.” I groan on entering Tweek’s bedroom. I sit his mug down on his dresser and peer up at him as he sits on his bed. He’s hastily pressing buttons on his laptop as I unzip my grey sweatshirt jacket and toss it onto Tweek’s bed.

“Oh, uh, thanks, dude. You can grab a new shirt if you need it.” Tweek offers, grinning sheepishly at me.

I lift an eyebrow at him as I grab a new piece of clothing from his second drawer. Considering our size difference I used to assume his clothes would not fit me, but Tweek has a habit of wearing everything about two sizes too big. “Were you watching porn or something?”

“What?! No! I was just practicing for the talent show.” The blond assures me.

I stride across the room and take a seat on his bed, crossing my legs. “Sing it for me.”

Tweek shakes his head. “Nope. It’s a surprise.”

“Surprise for who?”

“You.”

My heart skips, “What do you mean?”

Tweek smiles, waving me off, “It’s a surprise!”

I groan dramatically and fall forward with my head in his knees. “I hate surprises, just tell me.”

“I can’t, Craig. I’m sworn to secrecy by… myself.”

I roll my eyes and bury my face in his thighs. “You fucking suck.”

“I know.” Tweek sighs mockingly and drags my beanie off my head, replacing it with his fingers. “I’ll give you a hint?”

“Don’t tease me, Tweak.”

“Take it or leave it, Tucker.”

I puff out a sigh then lean my cheek against his leg. “Alright, shoot.”

Tweek grins down at me and my heart flutters. I kind of love it when my chest fills with that light, giddy feeling, but hate it at the same time. It makes me want to lean up and kiss him when I know that I can’t. I read the gleam in his eyes when he leans in a little, as if he’s letting me in on a private joke, “It’s by your favorite artist.”

I lift an eyebrow, momentarily trying to remember my favorite artist. “Panic!?”

“Nope.”

“Queen?”

“Your _other_ favorite.”

With his emphasis, I knew just what he meant. I barked, “No way, dude. You’re going to do the _Jailhouse Rock_ routine?”

Tweek smirks. “I’m not suddenly _that_ confident.”

“What, then?”

“You’ll _see_! I’ve revealed too much.”

“Now you’re just being criptic,”

The blond giggles and taps the tip of my nose. “Patience, young one.”

“Up yours.” I groan, giving up and rolling onto the mattress. “Hey, I’m really proud of you for getting up there, though. It takes some real balls.”

This flusters Tweek a little. “Thanks… I’m not totally convinced I won’t back out but I’ll try.”

“That’s more than I’m willing to do.” I admit.

“That might be a good thing. I love you, but, your singing is a different story…”

“Hey! I can hit a C-sharp,” I defend jokingly.

Twek giggles. “Maybe if someone kicks you in the balls first.”

I toss my hands up, “So, I compliment you, and you say I can’t sing? What a nice friendship this is,”

My heart continues to soar as I watch him giggle and fall down against me. His head lands on my shoulder and the world around me fades into nothing. It happens every time we’re together and It’s really all I want out of this pointless maze called life; that one ray of sunshine disguised as a person that fate sent to make me believe in something.

“I’m sorry,” He promises. “Thank you, Craig. I appreciate your encouragement.”

“Don’t be gay.”

Tweek just rolls his eyes and throws his arm around my waist. Mine snakes around his shoulders as I stare up at the ceiling. If I look at him while those big, beautiful eyes are two inches from my face I’m afraid I’ll finally fit our lips together.

“I wonder why Kyle’s so hell-bent on this whole talent show thing.” I say after a bought of silence.

He lets out a tiny puff. “I have no clue, man. I don’t get why he’d want that much responsibility.”

“Well, this is Kyle we’re talking about. He has to feed his control-freak demons somehow. Organizing a talent show is probably more than a power trip, but that’s what he’s getting out of it.”

“I thought you liked Kyle?”

“Yeah, and I like Clyde, but that doesn’t make him less of an egocentric crybaby.”

“True.” Tweek laughs. “But, I dunno, it’s kind of exciting. I mean, horrifying. Terrifying. I might die. It’s very likely I will go into cardiac arrest—“

“Tweek, chill. I’m telling you, you’re gonna be awesome. At the very least, you’ll be the only act worth watching.”

Tweek pushes himself off the mattress and faces me. “Why do you believe in me so much?”

That’s an excellent question, because I really don’t even know myself, but when I hear his voice and gaze into his eyes, I know. And I do so now, smiling. “Lover’s intuition?”

“Shut _up._ ” Tweek scoffs amusedly and we laugh together. We spend the rest of the day hanging out as we normally do, but in the back of my mind all I can think about is what song he’s going to sing—and how it relates to me. A small sense of hope stirs within me. Not even my pessimism can squander it this time. I’m not sure if it’s a good or bad thing.

_

It’s the big night, and not uncharacteristically, I’m late. At least I took the extra two minutes to put on the only pair of black jeans I own that don’t have holes in the knees.

On entering the school at a little past five when I was supposed to be there at four-thirty, I’m a little intimidated by the Broflovski-stress wrath that is certain to rain down upon me. He’s been a bigger pain in the ass through this one week of planning and plotting and making himself bald than he’s been in the entire fifteen years that I’ve known him—and that is saying a _lot_. I find the redhead backstage, flanked by his boyfriend, as he chews out his younger brother, Ike.

“For the last time, you’re going on first! End of discussion. Go sew your cape,”

Ike stops his foot childishly, making his cone-shaped hat shift atop his head. “C’mon, dude! I can actually do cool stuff, it would be a kick ass closing act!”

Kyle’s rolling his eyes and scribbling something on a clipboard as if he’s actually running something important here. “Ike, no. This is for seniors, your magician act is just—“

“I’m an _illusionist_!” Ike interjects, making Stan snort. He narrows his eyes at him, “Shut up, r-tard!”

“Seriously, go away. You’re going first, build a bridge and get over it.” Kyle tells him with finality, waving his hand.

“Whatever, man, fuck this,” Ike grumbles in frustration before storming off, his cape billowing in his wake.

“Love you!” Kyle calls out sardonically before noticing my presence. The sarcasm ensues, “Oh, nice of you to show up, Craig. The show starts in a half-hour! I need you to make sure the equipment is in place and then get behind the sound booth.”

I stifle my growl. “The equipment is Stan’s job.”

“Nope, he’s fired.” Kyle argues, shooting Stan a glare. “Apparently taking advantage of my perfectionism is okay now.”

I purse my lips. “He found out about your doing-a-terrible-job-so-Kyle-takes-over plot?”

Stan sent me a sheepish smile before resting his chin against Kyle’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“Mm, not tonight, you don’t.” Kyle shrugs Stan off of him then returns his attention to me with a slight smirk. “Tweek’s last.”

My eyes widen a little. “Dude, no, you can’t do that to him.”

“Why not? Being last is honorary,”

“Does _Gah, this is way too much pressure!_ ring any bells?” I inquire, making Kyle chuckle at my Tweek impression. “I’m serious, you don’t understand how nervous he is. Just, put him second to last. He can’t handle it.”

Kyle sighs, jutting out his hip. “That kid’s seventeen. When’s he gonna stop freaking out over stupid shit like this?”

I scoff, “It’s called having every type of anxiety in the book, jackass. Just put him second to last.”

“Alright, alright.” Kyle smiles knowingly. “I was going to anyways, I just like to see you get all defensive over him.”

I flip Kyle off and then strut off to pretend to take care of my contribution to the show. I really hope he forgives Stan in time to lend me a helping hand, because this whole being fired thing is really cutting into my original plan of only paying attention when Tweek takes the stage by storm. It also eliminates having Stan to make fun of everyone with. Bullying gets lonely sometimes.

“Craig, where is my pistol?” Cartman barks at me as I trudge across the stage. He's clad is a tattered suit and has put ridiculous, faux facial hair on his chubby cheeks.

I perk my head to the side. “What the hell do you need a pistol for?”

He rolled his eyes to the back of his head. “I’m doing a very detailed reenactment of the closing scene of _Seven_ with Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman, and if I don’t have a fucking pistol, I’m going to have to use my finger-gun when I scream ‘What’s in the box?!’ and it’ll look fucking retarded.”

“Dude, fuck you, get your own pistol.” I tell him before continuing on my way.

“Fuck _you_ , Craig! Fuckin’ asshole!”

Before taking my place behind the shitty sound booth that hasn’t been renovated since 1952 I head into the ‘dressing room’, which is just Mrs. Allen’s science class half-way down the hall. Inside I find Clyde doing his warm-up ritual, which is just uninformed meditation. I nudge his knee with my foot on my way to finding Tweek. When I do, he’s in the back of the room, trembling. My face falls and I pick up my pace.

“Hey, Tweekers, you okay?” I ask. I gingerly place my hand on the small of his back, startling him slightly, but he calms down when he realizes it’s me.

“No.” He retorts truthfully. His entire body is shaking like a vibrator. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can,” I assure him with a serious expression on my face. “All you need is to believe in yourself.”

“I don’t believe in myself, man! I can’t. I’m just gonna get up there and spaz out and look stupid!”

I shush him and cup his cheeks in my hands. I don’t say anything—just gape deeply into his eyes. I do nothing but that, making his heartrate decline and mine escalate. Then, softly I say, “I believe in you. We all do. You’re amazing, and you can do this. And I will be right there the whole time. You can do it, Tweek.”

The cute blond nods and sucks in deep breaths. His eyes close and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I can do this.”

I smile wide, “There you go. You’re going be to do great.”

Tweek’s grin matches mine. My heart inflates when he lunges forward and wraps his arms around my neck. He hugs me tightly, taking my breath away figuratively and literally. I chuckle, returning the gesture. “Thanks for cracking my back, dude.”

Tweek withdraws sheepishly and giggles sheepishly. “Sorry… Now, get out of here, I gotta practice.”

I wink at him then return to the assignment. I head into the theater through the back and slide into the booth. The windows that oversee the theater are dusty, but I can still see that there are about four people who are waiting to see the show. I’m sure more people will show up but I’m not counting on much. I scan my eyes along the sound board and find the CD I’m supposed to put into the music-thingy, or whatever Kyle said.

Speaking of whom, I can feel my phone vibrating in my pockets; three guesses who that is. I groan, reaching into my pocket and retrieving it. Surely enough, the nickname _Red_ with Kyle’s picture is lighting up my screen. I put it to my ear after pressing the answer button, “What?”

“Dude, you didn’t set out any of the equipment!”

“Yeah, I know, Cartman already chewed me out,” I roll my eyes. “Would you just let Stan take care of it? I gotta figure out how to put the music in the thingy and turn on the lights.”

“C’mon, you know Stanley’s incompetent!”

“And I’m not?”

Kyle pauses, and then sighs deeply. _“_ True. Whatever, fine. I don’t have time for this anyways.”

“Have fun,” I encourage before disconnecting our call. I take a seat scan my eyes along the mass of switches and buttons. I’m only half-curious about what each of them does, so I understand why I was put back here instead of the other stagehand, Kenny—he’d have flipped every single one of them already. 

It takes me about ten minutes to realize that there’s a CD player connected to the theater’s speakers. I smack myself in the face for not realizing it before, and then slide in the disk and wait ten more minutes for the show to start. There’s probably thirty or forty people now, most of which are parents and/or grandparents. The Donavon’s, Broflovski’s, and Tweak’s are sharing a row. I smile to myself when I see Mr. Tweak’s video camera. This is probably the first time they’ve actually been supportive of something he’s done outside of the coffee shop.

An iMessage from Kyle says it’s go-time. I flip a couple labeled switches and the theater goes dark aside from the brilliant beam of spot-light shining down on the stage. I tune out emcee Token and scroll through my phone. A couple minutes into _The Incredible Ike’s_ underwhelming magic skit, the sound-booth’s creaky door opens and in walks Stan.

I nod at him then return my attention to the youngest Broflovski. I knit my eyebrows together, “Is he repurposing Mysterion’s cape?”

He chuckles and takes the weight off his feet, occupying the chair beside me. “It was a generous loan from the vigilante himself.”

I chuckle and rub my eyes. “How much more of this do I have to endure?”

“Seventeen acts.”

“Jesus Christ. How did Kyle recruit that many people? You’re the only one he has that hypnotic control over.”

Stan rolls his eyes. “You’d be surprised, dude. Have you seen his ass?”

“Okay, I’ll give him that.”

I glance over at the quarterback, who’s leaning on his elbows and returning my gaze. “Speaking of ass… Tweek’s got a special something planned for you tonight.”

“So I’ve heard.” I smile to myself. “Any chance you’ll tell me?”

Stan smirks, shaking his head. “I’m sworn to secrecy.”

I exhale deeply and slam my forehead on the table. “I cannot wait fifteen fucking acts.”

“Sorry, dude. At least they’ll be hilarious. Do you know what Clyde’s singing?”

“Oh, god, what? Justin Bieber?”

“Better,”

“Taylor Swift?”

“Warmer,”

I squint, thinking, and then let out a laugh when I remember who he’s been obsessed with lately. “Oh, shit, Melanie Martinez?”

“D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E,” Stan spells, laughing along with me. I suppose I have something to look forward to after all.

Basically all of the acts have sucked so far—beside Clyde, who made my entire year when he proudly sang a song meant for a 90 pound female pop singer, and Bebe Stevens and Heidi Turner, who are admittedly excellent dancers. My interest is only peaked when Stan vacates the booth to tune his guitar. I have a burning desire to know what the hell Tweek has planned for me.

“Thank you, Cartman, for… That,” Token attempts to sound positive about Cartman’s dramatic reinterpretation that I was surprisingly enthralled by. It ended with him in tears, pointing a fake gun at himself. It was somewhat confusing, very loud, and definitely made an infant cry. “We have just two acts left tonight, so thank everyone for coming out and supporting South Park High! And, Ike. Next up is Tweek Tweak and Stan Marsh with Elvis’ hit song, _Can’t Help Falling In Love_. Give it up!”

My stomach ties in knots at the realization of Tweek’s surprise. I pause the CD so Jimmy’s comedy soundtrack doesn’t play in the middle of their performance, jog out of the booth. I steal an empty seat in the front row just in time for Tweek to nervously pace onto the stage, Stan behind him with his gorgeous Fender acoustic around his neck. I manage to catch my frantic friend’s attention, and I give him a warm smile. He swallows a lump in his throat and shakily approaches the microphone stand. He looks so perfect up there in his light blue overalls and striped pullover. I can see that he’s quivering, but I know he’ll be okay.

Stan’s fingers begin expertly plucking the guitar version of my favorite Elvis song and I begin to wonder if this is real. My memory reminds me of a scenario that occurred between Tweek and me, at least a year ago. We were talking about how if we were ever in love with someone we’d have to tell them in a really cheesy way—and Tweek said he’d sing their favorite love song to them. And there he was; onstage, staring right at me with those beautiful eyes and singing the words that made my heart pound in my chest like it was trying to escape.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help falling in love with you,”

I feel like crying, screaming, and most prominently, scooping Tweek up and running away to Vegas to get married. His voice is so sweet and pure, singing a few octaves higher than the original, but taking everyone’s breath away. My heart swelled with adoration and pride. Though I was skeptical that he would muster the courage to get up in front of everyone, I knew he could do it. Though, he surpassed my expectations by also telling me something I should have said years ago. 

Tweek’s grinning at me, and I can tell that he’s loving this despite his anxiety. He’s so good at singing, and he’s so goddamn beautiful. I wish he could do this for a living. And even if he does or doesn’t, I hope I get to be by his side no matter what.

“Take my hand, take my whole life, too,” Tweek ambles towards me as he sings, then takes a seat on the edge of the stage and gazes right at me. “For I can’t help falling in love with you,”

I can almost feel tears brimming in my eyes as he drags out the last few words. This anxiety ridden spaz who’s afraid of his own shadow is pretty much telling the entire school he’s gay for his best friend, and he’s smiling about it. Maybe I’m the one who’s been scared this whole time.

“For, I can’t help falling in love with you.”

My idiotic smile is threatening to split my face in half as Stan strums out the last few notes. Tweek winks at me, and it’s so cute that I think I’m actually blushing. Token comes onstage to announce the last act and Tweek and Stan scamper off. I grip the arms of the chair in theater, unmoving as Jimmy begins his act. He seems slightly vexed by the lack of his theme song, but he carries on with his overdone puns anyways.

I hop up from my seat and practically run backstage. I don’t really have a game plan past finding Tweek, but I’ll figure it out. It’s poorly lit backstage and everyone’s gathered around in a circle. They’re all patting Tweek on the back for his awesome performance, and he’s smiling and blushing and he looks so adorable.

“Craig, what the hell?! You were supposed to play Jimmy’s song!” Kyle exclaims angrily when he sees me.

I grant him only a middle finger before I push past a few people to get to Tweek. When he sees me, his expression shifts. He looks almost cocky, and I’m totally into it. I don’t even care who’s watching, and I know it’s our entire class.

“I told you you’d be amazing.” I say to him. We’re inches apart now and I take both of his hands in mine.

He’s vaguely trembling, but he’s grinning widely. “You always do. And it means everything to me.”

“I do it because you mean everything to me.”

Tweek glances to his side, where Clyde is pointing his video camera at us, and his thumb up. He scoffs then averts his attention to me again. “Are you gonna leave everyone in suspense or are we gonna finally kiss?”

I huff, “I hate this school.”

Tweek giggles in agreement and winds his arms around my neck as mine curl around my waist. I press my lips against his and the most incredible feeling I’ve ever experienced. I hold him close kiss him with everything I have building up inside of me. We both smile into the kiss when everyone around us whoops and cheers.

When we pull back he cups my cheeks and sighs, “I love you.”

“I love you,” I blurt back, and I mean it with all of my heart. “I love you so much.”

“Oh, goddamn it, this is just what we need. More homosexuals,” Cartman growls, shaking his head from side to side.

“Shut up!” Kenny shouts, slapping him in the stomach and dabbing at his fake tears with his other hand. “It’s so beautiful.”

I sigh, “I hate everyone. Can we leave and make out?”

“Oh, Craig, I thought you’d never ask.” Tweek returns with mock dramatism.

I roll my eyes and chuckle and he leads me to the dressing room. After about a thousand pictures and Mr. Tweak taking an hour to show us the replay on his video camera, Tweek and I are happily making out in my car. His lips are intoxicating, and so is everything about him. I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now, kissing him and knowing I get to do it over and over again.

Maybe this talent show wasn’t so shitty after all. But, it was still really gay.


End file.
